


Sticky Situation

by danceswithgary



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alien Culture, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rituals, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-13
Updated: 2010-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some discoveries can be particularly sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky Situation

After laying out the towels and borrowed robe, then pouring warm water from a pitcher into the basin on the low wooden bench, John looks around and finds nothing left for him to do. Picking up his tac vest, he turns toward Rodney and can't help wincing a little as another of the vividly orange mafidas drops with a pulpy splat off the vest Rodney's still wearing. "Uh, I'll just wait by…." John hooks a thumb toward the doorway of the sparsely furnished antechamber and starts heading in that direction, but then he suddenly feels as if he's abandoning Rodney, so he turns back to say, "Unless you…uh…need some help?"

He instantly regrets the impulse, because Rodney had finally calmed down and the offer resets him back to livid. "Help? From you? You mean like actually protecting me, instead of standing there howling like a spectacularly deranged hyena when those idiots started throwing overripe potentially deadly fruit in some sort of bizarre harvest ritual?" Rodney scowls and gingerly pokes at a piece of alien peach lodged under a pocket flap. "Look at them! Orange, Colonel! They could have been some sort of citrus and I'd be standing here dead!"

Still feeling a little guilty at his careless reaction to the antics of the laughing children, John rubs the BDU pocket holding the epi-pen he always kept handy for Rodney, and then attempts some belated damage control. "According to Teyla, it's supposed to be some kind of honor…." He trails off as Rodney aims a withering glare in his direction and resigns himself to cold showers and bad coffee for at least a month, maybe more.

"Oh, how…_wonderful_. I guess I should be used to this by now. You get to sit next to pretty women at banquets and I end up covered in old produce." His anger suddenly deflating on a long-suffering sigh, Rodney shakes his head and then looks down, all his attention focused on trying to open the last of his vest's juice-sticky buckles. "Just…leave. I can handle cleaning this mess up by myself," he mutters, sounding bitter and resigned.

With Rodney's head facing down, John can see where his hair is plastered down at the back in spots, although the front is sticking up in random clumps, in sort of a mad scientist style to match his earlier raving. Before John realizes what he's doing, he reaches out and brushes away a piece of mafida that's stubbornly dangling above Rodney's left ear.

Startled, Rodney jerks his head up and backs away and, without thinking, John follows. It's a bad move on John's part, because he steps on one of the slick, rounded pits and starts sliding. His vest half off, Rodney tries to move out of the way, but he's slipping too and then his back is against the nearest wall, with John pressing against him. When John tries to regain his balance, he fails spectacularly and drags Rodney down on top of him as they sprawl across the floor, their vests flying in opposite directions.

It takes a moment to regain the breath knocked out of him, and then John pulls Rodney closer in an effort to avoid dangerously flailing body parts. Looking up into Rodney's rapidly reddening face, John asks in a choked voice, "Uh…you okay?"

Rodney's mouth opens, but nothing comes out except a wheeze and John loosens his arms enough to let Rodney breathe. It also allows Rodney to move and his legs drop between John's and Rodney's eyes widen comically as he realizes just how _close_ they are. He tries to roll away and John grunts, "Elbow," and then Rodney just collapses, still on top with his head next to John's, and begins to shake.

John pats Rodney's back with a worried, "Hey, buddy?" and unsuccessfully tries to ignore the juice that is seeping through his shirt and pants, back and front. "Um…getting kind of…uncomfortable here." It isn't until Rodney snorts in his ear that John figures out the bastard is laughing.

"Thought…you'd…like to…share…in the honor," Rodney gasps out between snickers and John can't resist the sound and joins in until they both start to tire and the laughter subsides to an occasional chuckle. Finally, Rodney raises his head and looks down at John, but he makes no effort to move beyond lifting some of his weight off John's chest with his forearms against the floor. Rodney's warm and solid and _fits_ better than John's ever dreamed late at night and alone in his room. John smiles up at his crooked grin and thinks Rodney would probably taste like peaches, then John decides that he needs to find out if he's right.

**Author's Note:**

> For [Challenge #69: Awkward](http://community.livejournal.com/mcsheplets/199874.html) combined with a [McShepling](http://community.livejournal.com/mcsheplets/189255.html?thread=2015303#t2015303) about an embarrassing alien ritual.


End file.
